The Ocean I Know

The waves are coming.  The ocean is pissed off.  It rolls & heaves, throwing itself on the land, furious that it can't reach further inland.  Sometimes she is greedy like that - the hurricane has got her all riled up.

Other times the ocean is flat.  Real flat.  Flat & shiny like a mirror.  When the ocean is like this it appears as tho someone has thrown a switch to turn it off.  This flatness usually occurs in the morning.  I like to think the moon has calmed her down.  Looking off into the horizon at just the right angle I cannot tell where the ocean ends & the sky begins.  It is very quiet.  Later in the morning the ocean wakes up & realizes she's been sleeping on the job.  She throws off some ripples as the day goes along, just to bob the fishing boats up & down.  So they don't forget where they are.  So they don't forget who's boss.

When the ocean is peaceful, it is time to scuba dive.  So far, I have been underwater with a scuba tank 90 times.  Sometimes there are different fish than usual.  This happens when the ocean is being pissed off somewhere else.  The fish come to find the smooth water.  They often find the fish traps as well.  Out of the frying pan, into the fire, I guess.  I don't like to see them in these cages.  If I was alone, I would try to set them free.  The dive master with us on the dive would not allow it.  People have to eat, he would say. What's wrong with mangoes, I would reply.  We are underwater, so we don't have the luxury of arguing.

When the ocean is feeling feisty it is best not to dive.  After a lot of rain is not a good time either.  The visibility can be bad.  On one of my worst dives I could not even see my husband next to me.  That was a little scary.  Times like that you suddenly realize you have 60 feet of water pressing down on you & you are relying on a metal tank full of air & some tubes to keep you alive.  Times when this realization suddenly hits you, it is best to remain calm & just keep breathing.  Slowly.  Deep yoga breaths.  You don't want to use up all that air, do you? 

Every day I drive past the ocean.  Here in the Caribbean the ocean cannot just be called "blue".  You need to take the 120 pack of Crayola Crayons & choose all the colors from the palest green on up to the deepest purple - these are the colors of the ocean I can see.  I try to remember to let it take my breath away at least once a day - as I dodge the traffic on my way about my regular life.  Getting gas can be a good place to ponder the ocean - gas stations have some of the best real estate, & the traffic is mostly still.

Working on cruise ships all those years ago I knew the ocean.  Sometimes flat water, filled with natives in outrigger canoes & tattoos down their noses.  Sometimes waves so bad that we could not let the passengers off the ship to ride in those native canoes.  There are not many things as sad as a tourist that has spent all that money & time anticipating a ride in a canoe with a native just once in their lives, only to be thwarted by the sea.  The ocean does not care.  We are not the boss of her, she would say, tossing her violent waves over her shoulders, laughing.

I will always remember climbing the ladders in the night on the outside of the ship, arms filled with snacks & video tapes.  My roommate & I would be going to the Officers Rec Room to watch videos & hang out.  We had to climb the ladders outside the ship as we were not allowed to go thru the ship out of uniform.  Think of climbing a metal ladder.  Now, imagine it is wet with ocean spray (even 11 decks up!).  You climb in the dark, with the ships lights & the stars being the only lights around.  You are in the middle of the ocean, in the tropics, alone.  The ship is banging up & down on the waves & you hear them smacking against the hull - boom, boom, boom.  The wind is blowing & the spray is hitting you & you are climbing with one hand & you suddenly realize how happy you are - to be just here, just now.  Doing this.  In the middle of the living, breathing ocean.  Who'd've thought you could share your heartbeat with the ocean?

She is a mystery.  I haven't seen the ocean yet today.  She is probably relaxing here.  Rumor has it that she is busy with the hurricane up north.  She is gathering up her waves to hurl them at New England.  Why?  Who knows.  But you know she will be laughing madly while she does it, rolling & heaving, throwing herself at the land again & again.  Furious that she cannot claim it all.

Necessary Evil

Conversation of a fall evening -

-Okay, son, when you are showered & cleaned up you can do me a fashion show.
-What?
-I bought you some new clothes today;  I need you to try them on before I take off all the tags.
-Why?
-To be sure they fit, duh!
-No, why did you buy me new clothes?  I have enough clothes.
-Well, you know we are going on a school visit.  It's going to be cold up there in the States now.  You needed some pants & long sleeve shirts.
-Okay.

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-Oh!  Those look nice.  My guessing on the shirt size was right on.
-I think it's kind of tight.
-Can you move your arms all around?
-Yeah.
-Are the seams at your shoulders?
-Yeah.
-Do the sleeves cover your wrists?
-Yeah.
-Okay, then.  Not too tight; not too small.  Fits just right!  Fix the collar, there.  Do you like the color of that shirt?  I think it actually looks pretty good with those khaki's, don't you?
-It's okay.
-What do you mean 'it's okay'?  Don't you like it?
-Well, it's green.
-And?
-And it has stripes.
-Yes, I did notice that when I bought it.  What's the problem?
-I don't know.  It's just that, well, it's not really ME.
-What do you mean?
-Stripes...
-Would you prefer solids?
Blank stare.
-If you don't like stripes would you prefer solids - you know, just one plain color?  You do know that solids are the opposite of stripes, in the clothing world - kind of like on the pool table...You really don't like it?
-It just seems a little formal.
-Formal?  How can a long-sleeved polo feel 'formal'?
-I don't know, it just does.
-Well, you can untuck the shirt, I guess.  How does that feel?
-Better...
-But?
Scuffling of feet; plucking at sleeves...
-I don't KNOW.
-What would make this outfit feel more like YOU?
-Why can't I wear the clothes I already have?  Like the T-shirts I like.
-You mean those T-shirts that are 3 sizes too big?
-So?
-Look.  You are going on a school visit.  It's a 'visit', but it's also secretly an 'interview'.  You've got to look like you know how to dress appropriately.
-But my T-shirts have great designs - like stuff about sailing & cool stuff like that.
-I agree that your T-shirts have great designs.  & if they actually FIT, we probably could have gone with one or two of them - but they are too big.  Schools want to see 'mature young man with a lot to offer' not 'gangster in training for a prison rap band'.  Go put on the other shirt.
-I don't even LIKE rap!
-There you go.  So why should you look like that? 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

-Anyway, I DID actually look at some graphic T-shirts, but they had V-necks...
-Oh, that's no good.
We sit silently in our separate rooms, wondering what exactly is wrong with a V-neck T-shirt.  Whatever it is, tho, apparently we DO agree on something.
-Are you coming out?
-Yeah.
-Oh, that's a nice color blue.  Looks good with your eyes!
-Which color blue?  They are stripes again.
-OMG!  Not stripes AGAIN!  Will you be all right?  Do you need to sit down & take some deep breaths?
-Mom!
-Anyhow, it's not the same kind of stripe.  The green shirt was predominantly green with a few different sized white stripes.  This shirt is dark & light blue big stripes of equal size.
-Whatever.
-You really don't like these shirts?
-They're okay.
-What's the problem?  You can't go thru life wearing giant T-shirts & shorts for all occasions.  There are some times that you NEED more formal, or let's say, 'casually formal' (or would that be 'formally casual'?) clothes to wear.  But that doesn't mean you have to not like them.
-Okay, fine.  If this is what people wear in the States, then okay, I will wear them.  But don't expect me to get all excited about them.
-Son, we are talking about a polo shirt & khaki's; these are a necessary evil of modern day life - it's not like I am dressing you in a tuxedo or something.  There is probably not a boy in the civilized world who does not have to wear this type of outfit now & then. You should still be able to LIKE your clothes, even if you wouldn't wear them every day.  You want to look like you fit in.  After you prove that you can fit in, then you can look like yourself.
-That's weird.
-True.  But, that's the way it is.  Think about your school uniform.  That's something you wear everyday that is not 'you'.
-Right!  And that's fine.  But, do you think I like my school uniform?  It's not like I get all excited when you buy me another uniform.
-Ah, but if I bought the wrong uniform, then you might take some notice.
????

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-There is something to be said for the peace of mind that comes with knowing you are dressed correctly for whatever event you are going to.  Still, there's no reason you can't be excited about those types of clothes that you don't normally wear.
-You're such a girl.
-Yeah, well...okay, how about this:  your swim suits.
-What about them?
-Well, I don't hear you going on & on, like, "Well, if this is what people have to wear to go swimming, okay, but I'd just rather wear my T-shirt & shorts in the water."
Laughing.
-Stop it, Mom!  I don't sound like that!  Besides, that would be stupid!
-Exactly!  And you do seem to enjoy picking out different swim suits.  Why do you care about them, when after all, you 'wouldn't really wear them every day'?  Why get excited about what kind of swim suit you wear?
-Because the swim suits fit my personality.
-Right.  So, within the confines of polo's & khaki's, I have tried to 'fit your personality'.  I have picked colors that look good on you.  I have stayed away from things I didn't figure you would like, for example:  pink, or designs that are too busy, or FLOWERS, for heaven's sake.  I think you should be a little more appreciative of the fact that you can actually trust your mother to pick out decent clothes.  I would have rather died than let MY mother ever pick out MY clothes when I was your age - she was never particularly good about that sort of thing...
Chuckles.
-Besides, look at the bright side - you didn't even have to go shopping!  That should generate some excitement right there.
-True.  You have a point there...

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

-So, we're good?  You're happy now?  You like these clothes, then?
-I guess...
-What now?!
-Well, why'd you by so many?
-MANY!  I bought TWO shirts!  What makes you think ...

But, let us slip away quietly now...

Road Rage Formula

The First Law of Road Rage:

The reaction of the driver 
at whom you just honked 
will be a violent outburst
that will increase exponentially 
according to the degree of wrong-doing 
secretly acknowledged 
by the aforementioned driver.

For example:

Guy attempts to pull out in front of me.  
I honk while at the same time the man is realizing his error.  
He stops & waves me by.

Or,

Guy stops dead in swiftly moving traffic blocking one lane, causing me to swerve around him. Then he changes his mind & tries to pull back into traffic, causing me to have to swerve further over.  
I honk firmly in annoyance. 
He shakes his fist out the window, hollering like I just insulted his mother. Then he pulls up beside me at the light, still screaming.  He then makes a gun gesture with one hand while banging against the side of his car with the other hand, trying to incite me to race against him.

Both times I am right.  But in the second example not only am I right, but I am greatly exalted & honored by the excessive attention accorded to me in PROOF of my rightness!

Night of the Colon

"So," said the colonoscopus (that can't be right), gastroenterologist, "Why are you here?"

Why am I here?  Let me think of the myriad of reasons I might be sitting in front of this doctor.  I am betting if he would actually look down at my file which is spread before him, he might discover that my other doctor has sent me over for a colonoscopy consultation, seeing as how I am 50 now, & am considered  to be 'high risk' with my family history.  But, okay, maybe this is just his way of breaking the ice.

"Well,"  I said, "My colon is feeling rather neglected & unappreciated, as no one ever looks at it, so..."  No, I didn't really SAY that!  I said something like, "...My other doctor has sent me over for a colonoscopy consultation, seeing as how I am 50 now, & am considered  to be 'high risk' with my family history."

He nodded sagely, as if he could actually tell this by my appearance ("What?  My colon's hanging out?  Why didn't you say so?").  Not a bedside manner guy, he didn't even blink when I said I was 50.  Then he finally looked down at my file, I guess to verify that I was speaking the truth.  Meanwhile, I was wondering what a "colonoscopy consultation" would entail.  Back in the States, I don't ever remember "consulting" which the specialist:  I just showed up for my procedure.

He whipped out his appointment book.  "Tuesday next week?"

"No, how 'bout Wednesday?"

He agreed & wanted to know where I lived.  I told him I lived close by.

Then he searched his filing cabinets for some papers & did some scribbling on them.  He brought the papers around the desk to sit next to me.  Ah, I thought, here comes the bedside manner.

"You will have to drink this stuff I will prescribe.  It tastes, well, truly awful."

"Mmmm."  I said.

He waved the papers at me.  "This tells you everything you must do to prepare.  You MUST follow these directions."

I scanned ahead to the actual appointment time.  "5 O'clock?  In the afternoon?  Isn't that a little late in the day?  The previous times I have had this done they did it early in the morning."

"Well..."  he said, "You said you lived nearby.  I save the early appointments for people who come from far away."

Okay, what is THIS, discrimination based on my address?

"I could go far away & come back..." I said.

He shook his head with a little chuckle - I'd not fool HIM!

"See you next week."  he said.

For this I paid him $70.

I went home & read the forms.  I especially enjoyed the part that said "The surgery may be delayed or cancelled if other emergencies arise...if you are not willing to be patient, please seriously consider not accepting this appointment!"

Now he's telling me that after 2 days of prep that I should be patient?  Maybe that is why these appointments are supposed to be scheduled early in the morning, just to avoid such circumstances?  But, who am I to mention these things, just a 50 year old housewife with a high risk colon.  What do I know?

So, I drove around to 2 different pharmacies to get the 2 bottles of "stuff" & the 4 pills.  I swear the pharmacists smirked at me at both locations.  I smiled sweetly, thinking, yeah honey, you'll get YOURS...

In order to begin my preparations I was first required to worry about the procedure for the next few days.  The doctor had forgotten to write that on the paper, but I knew it needed to be done.  There was much to worry about.  

First off, here I am in a country not my own, which is a little disconcerting - tho, at least we all speak English.  I probably didn't have to worry about anything being lost in translation that would cause removal of my spleen or something.  There WAS that.  

Then, there were the horror stories by friends I needed to assimilate, "...there was this friend of a friend of a friend of a friend's SISTER who had HER colonoscopy done HERE & SHE had to go back to the States for ANOTHER SURGERY...".  There was that, too.

The next day, I had a phone call from the hospital advising me of my cost (I pay upfront & bill my insurance after, in case you are curious) for the procedure.  "Your cost will be $66,000."  There is always that split second of *gasp* & *dropping elevator stomach*, before the mind converts the Jamaican dollars to US.  "Okay."  I told her, taking comfort in that the roughly $750 price tag seems to be less than the US price - so at least my insurance company shouldn't have a melt down.  There was that.

Then, before I knew it, I was ruining a perfectly good can of ginger ale with that first bottle of vile liquid.

But, don't worry.  I will spare you the details of "prep".

Let us happily skip forward to my admittance to the hospital. They don't mess around here in Jamaica - you pay FIRST!  Which actually makes some sense, I guess.  Then the nurse came to get me to take my blood pressure & temperature.  "Do you have high blood pressure?"

Why do they ALL drag my file around with them yet never ONCE open the dang thing?

"Not usually."  I told her.  The other nurse in the room told the first nurse to do it over again in a minute.  I told both of those nurses that if someone was about to stick something up THEIR whatsis, well, they would have high blood pressure too!  They giggled, & the first nurse said, "I had it done.  It is not that bad."  RIGHT!  What else are they supposed to say - "Get out now while you still can!"?

After an acceptable blood pressure reading, they led me away to the basement.  "Down into the dungeon..." I intoned.  

The nurse giggled again.  She came to Room #4.  "Don't worry about the odor in here - we have been spraying for mosquitoes.  And watch out for the bucket."  she gestured at the bucket catching drips in the middle of the room.  "The air conditioner is leaking."

"I know that story,"  I commented, "so is my air conditioner at home."  I quickly scanned the room for other implements of torture, but found none.

So, there she left me, in a room with two beds, & a sink hanging half off the wall, to change into my glamorous gown, with matching hairnet & booties.  I stretched out on the bed & listened to the dripping A/C.  It had a kind of 'homey' feel.  I willed myself to fall asleep.  I hoped my husband was going to remember to pick me up.  I hoped the kids weren't burning down the house making their pizza for dinner.  I hoped that they had some extremely potent sedatives ready for me, I hoped that...

Then, another nurse was waking me up.  "You have to walk with me to this room."  She pointed out the door.  "Okay."  I said.  She asked if I needed my shoes.  I paused for a moment, wondering how I would fit my bootied-feet into my flip flops.  "No."  I waved at them.  "They can wait here."  & I followed her to my doom... Oops, I mean, that room...

Who really knows what happened next?  I received several syringes of medication through my IV.  In my opinion they were not quite strong enough.  But, before I knew it I was resting again in the first room, feeling like I had accomplished some physically demanding but very important task, listening to the frogs singing outside in the dusk. 

That was nice.  Probably the highlight of the event for me.  Resting gently in my hairnet & booties, & my beautiful gown - drifting away without a responsibility or a care in the world. 

I was happy to hear those singing frogs again, & to see the night darkening outside my window as I closed my eyes.  It was a great evening to be alive - even in the dungeon of a hospital with a dripping A/C.  Even in a room smelling of mosquito repellent.  

Even if my husband DID forget to pick me up.